


One Step Behind

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alfred has a thing for Ivan's hair, Anal Sex, Angst, Bath Sex, Cold War, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies, Even though he also hates it, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Ivan has a thing for Alfred's personality, Love/Hate, M/M, Rival Relationship, Rivalry, Space Race, Winter, World Meeting (Hetalia)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-18 22:36:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11884272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When you are representing a nation with billions of people, the highs and lows are drastic. The USA's record-breaking average of depression in its citizens one winter has left Alfred to deal with the side effects. His normally chipper self is withdrawn and he finds himself feeling empty and alone. Of course, there is one other representative who can relate to that better than anyone else, and he sets it as his mission to help Alfred through his time of need.





	One Step Behind

**Author's Note:**

> Just as a warning, this story does not have a beta, so if there are some mistakes I missed I'm sorry. I really didn't spend much time editing it, but I did skim through. 
> 
> Anyway, I'm not really sure why I wrote this other than I really have a thing for RusAme. Always have. I also have a thing for the whole Cold War setting, which started before I even knew Hetalia existed. So yeah. Here we go :D
> 
> >Translations<
> 
> Moyo solnyshko - My Sun
> 
> Sladkiy - Sweetie/Honey
> 
> Zahmolchee - Shut Up
> 
> Myshka - Little Mouse

Alfred F. Jones did not appreciate everyone’s staring. Generally, he was not a man opposed to being fawned over, but the looks of confusion and concern were beginning to grate on his nerves. Sure, he wasn’t acting as chipper and boisterous as usual, and maybe he snapped at a few of the countries before quickly apologizing, but that didn’t give the others a right to start assuming anything. It was almost like he wasn’t _allowed_ to have an off day. Even the best of heroes had low points, and this meeting just happened to fall during one of his. He didn’t need anyone else’s pity or judgment, and he sure as hell didn’t want anyone else’s help. 

“America,” England’s gaze was down at his documents. “Are you feeling well?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been acting rather…odd,” England’s thick eyebrows furrowed. “Is everything going alright at home?”

“I said I’m fine,” Alfred grit his teeth.

“You know, if you ever need to get something off your chest, I’m always-“

“I said I’m fucking fine!” Alfred snapped, causing heads to turn in their direction.

Germany glowered at him in annoyance, displeased at being interrupted. The way his steel gaze bore at Alfred had the American seething within seconds.

“Do you have something to say, America?” Germany grunted, arms crossed. 

“No.”

England’s concerned gaze never left Alfred for the duration of the meeting. He tried his best to ignore it, attempting to focus on the documents in front of him. Why they had to be discussing the world’s natural resources at that meeting of all meetings, Alfred had no idea, but he resented whoever’s idea it was. The nations had been going over oil conservation for the last hour of the meeting, and by the end of it Alfred was ready to tear his papers into pieces until nothing was legible. With England staring at him with questions on the tip of his tongue, other countries watching him as though he were on the verge of starting nuclear war, and the other thoughts plaguing his mind, Alfred was nearing his breaking point. He was not known to have the best of patience on good days, let alone when he was having a bad one.

Alfred wondered if _he_ was also having a bad day.

The American’s feet were already out the door by the time Germany called an end to the meeting. He could feel the others’ eyes watch him leave, and he heard England protest his abrupt departure, but the hairs standing up on the back of Alfred’s neck when he felt _his_ eyes on him had the American scrambling. He had not acknowledged the other country at all that day, but he could feel the familiar trepidation he always felt when the other was watching; and he was always watching. Always one step behind Alfred. 

The American’s steps were heavy and quick, combat boots clinging to the snow beneath his feet. His breath formed clouds in the mid-winter air, ragged and heavy from his fast pace. The sky was already dark and the clouds covering the city did not help, hiding it and its inhabitants from any source of heat other than that which came from indoors. 

The path from the meeting place and his hotel was easy to navigate since he had already done it plenty of times before, but the strange chill in the air was an omen that it would be different on this specific day. Alfred wanted to get inside as soon as possible. Any time he wasted on buying dinner or sight seeing would only prolong his journey, and he would risk the chance of running into the nation he never wanted to lay eyes on ever again. He knew that he would have to eventually, but by that time he would surely be in higher spirits. He was America, after all, and he was the world’s hero. He would allow himself this one time to lose his composure, but by the next morning he would have to plaster a smile on his face no matter how insincere it would be. No matter how hollow and empty he felt on the inside. No matter how…pathetic he felt.

The sight of the hotel had Alfred sighing in relief, and his pace continued steadily through the crowds of people. How so many people could be outside in this weather, he did not understand. Even in his thick coat, the American was freezing. He should have worn his hat, but he had been too preoccupied with his bitterness and self-loathing to remember how cold it could get in St. Petersburg.

Alfred was dwelling on his own stupidity when a tingle ran from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes, causing his shoulders to hunch ever so slightly. The city was quiet, despite its size, but Alfred found the silence deafening. The presence of the other nation was overpowering his senses, and Alfred shivered despite himself. With a pained swallow, the American quickened his pace. He was not sure how much good it would do now that the other knew where he would be staying, but he could try.

Then again, Russia probably knew where he would be staying anyway. It was his home, after all.

In hindsight, Alfred should have just booked a flight for the closest time to when the meeting would end. Instead, he was forced to run towards his hotel room in the hopes that the other would not follow. His hopes were futile. 

He knew Russia would always be one step behind him.

Alfred did not risk a glance behind to see how close the other was. The unease he felt from the other’s gaze alone was bad as it was. The sight of the other’s lavender eyes peering into his own, monitoring his every move would most definitely be worse. Alfred had already let his hero complex fail in outward appearance; he could not risk showing that he was emotionally unstable as well. That would only spur the other nation to further torment him. As it was, Alfred knew he’d be in for a long night.

He made it through the doors of the hotel, glad he’d already checked in, and quickly made his way up the stairs. He might have used the elevator in the hopes that Russia would not know where his room would be, but waiting for the elevator to arrive was too risky. Besides, the other nation could probably get any information he wanted, including his room number. 

The American was glad he’d been focusing on his fitness as of late, because he was pretty much running up the stairs, and his room was located on the top floor. The thought that he was fleeing from the other nation passed through his mind, and had the American reeling in self-loathing. He was a hero! There was no way he was afraid of Russia, and even if he was he would not run away! He just didn’t have the patience or mentality to deal with the other.

Alfred’s gut sank when he considered the possibility that Ivan wanted to take advantage of that.

The boards beneath Alfred’s shoes creaked as he practically stormed his way down the hall, and he fought back a flinch when he heard the noise echo behind him from the other nation’s steps. Alfred was already turning the handle to his room by the time the key registered that it should unlock, and he threw the door open with the intent to slam it behind him. He could not say he was surprised when a gloved hand stopped it. In a whirl of huffs and melting snow, Alfred found himself pressed against the door with a slam as it closed and the other nation trapped him.

“Privet, Fredka.”

Alfred nearly bit the inside of his cheek as he glared daggers at the other’s coat. This one was dark brown and thick, as opposed to the beige one he used to be seen in. It looked much warmer than Alfred’s, and the American was simultaneously jealous and annoyed at himself. Really, he should have planned more accordingly for a meeting in the middle of Russian winter. 

As if reading his thoughts, the Russian spoke in an amused tone of voice.

“You look very cold,” he sneered. “You should wear hat and gloves, da?”

“Why the hell do you care?” Alfred bit out. “I bet you’d be pretty fucking happy if I froze to death.”

“Nyet, you always put words into my mouth,” Ivan pouted. “If you froze to death, I would have no one else to play with.”

Alfred couldn’t help the shiver from escaping him, both from the chill and from the other’s words. Alfred had never been afraid of Ivan. Nonetheless, the other’s words always did have an effect on him, albeit slightly different from the reactions of other nations. There was just something about the other nation that rubbed America the wrong way. 

The way Ivan would leer at everyone in meetings was disturbing. He was always smiling the same smile, whether he was shaking someone’s hand or shoving their heads into the dirt. The way he would quietly observe everyone’s actions, only jumping in when he saw a benefit from doing so. No matter who he was with, it was always the same. _Become one with Russia, yes?_ That was a commonly heard request. One that America never received. 

“What are you thinking so hard about, Fredka, that you can’t even look me in the eyes?”

Alfred’s hands balled into fists, wanting to escape the suffocating air around him. The hotel room, despite being a nicer one in the city, was still much smaller than he was used to. He felt a bit claustrophobic in general, but the other looming over him wasn’t helping. 

Alfred kept his gaze on the other’s coat, “Get lost.”

The other chuckled, his voice tinkling like bells over calm waters before a storm.

“Why?”

Alfred grit his teeth when saw the other lean back to remove his gloves and hat. He did not know if he wanted to physically fight with the other man like they used to do during the cold war. On one hand it would help him let off some steam, but on the other he was feeling abnormally tired. Alfred closed his eyes as he waited for a sharp sting to erupt somewhere on his person, since that is what generally happened whenever he was with Ivan. 

He was not expecting those hands to start unbuttoning his pathetic excuse for a coat. 

Grabbed Ivan’s large hands with his own tightly, he tried to push the Russian away, “Stop.”

The other paused in his administrations for a moment before continuing, despite Alfred’s weak protests. In a matter of slow, drawn out moments, Ivan removed Alfred’s coat and hung it in the closet beside them. He quickly got rid of his own, still in the way of Alfred’s path from the rest of the room. The American did not even feel up to trying to go past, and instead stared down at the ground like it had killed his brother.

He nearly jumped from his skin when Ivan’s hands cupped his jawline gently, and lifted his gaze up until their eyes locked.

If Alfred did not already think this day was weird, he did now. 

First of all, Ivan never did anything gently when it involved him. Second, the expression on the Russian’s face was one he had never seen before, and it bothered him on so many levels. Concern.

Ripping his face away roughly, Alfred shoved his way past Ivan to the bed. Sitting down he took off his shoes, hoping to warm up his freezing toes in the heat of the building. Ivan stood in the doorway for a moment before following him and doing the same with his own. The American did not understand why Ivan was even there, if he wasn’t going to try to beat him up or something. He most certainly was confused by the other’s seemingly _kind_ behavior. Russia itself was not kind.

His elbows resting on his knees with his hands in his hair, Alfred scowled at the rug beneath his feet. Ivan sat beside him for a moment in silence before standing and walking over to the phone. Alfred tried to pick up the rapid Russian being spoken by the man, but it was too quick for him to decipher in time. He knew enough Russian to get by, but he had a hard time speaking or understanding it. Honestly, he had just never cared, and made a point to show that by not learning. Alfred did not register how Ivan observed him in silence for a few minutes before a knock sounded on the door. He jumped at the sound and frowned when he saw Ivan get up to answer. He returned his gaze to the rug beneath his feet, not noticing when the Russian closed the door and walked over to him.

He did, however, notice when Ivan crouched in front of him with a cup of tea in his hands. He offered it to Alfred, who rejected on impulse.

“It will help,” Ivan said softly, a small frown on his face. “You are cold.”

“I am fine.”

“I hate when you tell lies, Fredka.”

“Like you’re one to talk.”

Ivan raised an eyebrow, his expression now mirroring his displeasure. It was not often that Alfred got to see Ivan without that fake smile plastered on his face, so it was a bit of an interesting development. A warm hand gently tipped Alfred’s face up, soft beneath his chin. Alfred’s eyes locked onto Ivan’s once more, but he quickly averted his gaze when an unfamiliar feeling bubbled up in his stomach. The concern on Ivan’s face was beginning to be too much, and Alfred almost wished the other would smack him. 

“Stop that,” he managed.

“Nyet,” Ivan replied, offering the drink once again. “Not until you drink this.”

“How do I know it’s not drugged?” 

The accusation was a bit weak, but it had Russia grinning for a moment.

“Like I said, it would be most unfortunate to have my favorite plaything contract pneumonia.”

Alfred grabbed the tea from the other, trying to ignore the tingle he felt when their hands brushed. He also attempted to ignore how the other’s words affected him. It was unsightly to be caught blushing from what would generally be a very derogatory claim, and he felt ashamed of himself for stooping so low. 

_But he did say I’m his favorite._

Alfred sipped the tea, disregarding how pleasant it tasted. 

“I don’t like that look on your face.”

Alfred glanced up at Ivan, who was still kneeling on the floor in front of him. He was frowning, and his hands were fiddling with the hem of his sweater. 

“What look?” Alfred dared to ask.

“Surrender.”

Alfred’s face drained of all color as he stood and walked over to the head of the bed, setting the cup of tea down on the stand beside it. He did not have to turn around to know that Ivan followed, as he always did. The American only hoped that Ivan would not notice how much those words affected him. It was one thing to already know something, but it was another thing to hear it from someone else.

“Why do you care?” Alfred muttered.

He expected a retort like “my playthings should never give up!” or “because how can I fight someone who’s acting so pathetic?”, but instead he was met with silence. This whole ordeal was out of Alfred’s comfort zone. The Ivan he knew would never do anything kind, and he most certainly would not have missed an opportunity to belittle the other when he asked the previous question.

He couldn’t take it.

Alfred’s fist made contact with Ivan’s sweater, causing the other to stagger off balance from the impact. Alfred hit him repetitively, not really doing much damage other than giving himself a small adrenaline rush. Despite his inner turmoil, he truly wasn’t up to his usual standards in physical abilities. It took all of his effort to so much as make the other flinch, let alone cause any sort of bodily harm to him. What bugged Alfred more than his lack of vigor was Ivan’s lack of a response. The Russian simply stood there, allowing Alfred to let out his frustrations.

Glancing up, Alfred’s gaze caught Ivan’s. The other was simply watching, an unreadable expression adorning his features, but his eyes shining with something akin to worry. It drove Alfred mad. Nothing was going the way he expected, and he did not like it. With that in thought, Alfred shut his eyes and hit harder. He pushed, shoved, anything that he could think of to get the other to respond, and with a frustrated cry he slammed his fists onto the other’s chest as hard as he was able. Ivan stumbled back a few steps, but other than that did not appear affected. The warm tears building behind Alfred’s eyelids were unwelcomed, and he would be damned if he let this guy of all people see him cry. Heroes don’t cry. 

Alfred barely registered Ivan’s warm hands enveloping his own, pulling them away from the other’s chest. He did, however, open his eyes when he felt Ivan’s lips press against his knuckles. Gasping, Alfred tore his hands away and staggered back, Ivan watching him as he always did. Alfred’s mouth opened as he tried to think of something to say, but his voice caught as a tear escaped his eyes. He violently wiped it away with the back of his hand, stomping away and over to the window. He stared out at the city’s lights, finding it odd at how similar everything looked to his own country. Some of the brands advertised on billboards or storefronts were his own, and if he didn’t know better he would have thought he was back in Jersey or California.

Alfred sensed Ivan’s presence before he felt it. The other’s stood silently for a moment, before his arms wrapped around Alfred from behind. At first, Alfred thought that Ivan was going to try to choke him, which had happened several times before, but he soon realized that the other was simply holding him. Not really hugging, but nothing was forceful. Alfred could easily break away if he wanted. 

“I know what it feels like,” Ivan whispered into his ear. “You do not have to explain to me.”

Alfred let out a shuddered breath, shivering despite the surprising warmth the other brought. He’d always found it odd how warm Ivan was when his country was so cold, but he supposed that he could say the same for himself and his uncharacteristically cold hands. He closed his eyes when he felt Ivan’s breath caress his ear, causing strands of his hair to shift softly. The stark contrast in temperature from the window and the figure behind him had him shivering again, his heartbeat rising unwillingly.

“It is a downside of having such a big country, da? Having to represent so many people and so many emotions,” Ivan murmured, his cheek resting against Alfred’s crown.

His lips trembled at Ivan’s words. More tears hid behind his eyelids, one blink away from escaping, but he refused to let anymore fall. He had to be strong. 

If not for others, then for himself.

One of Ivan’s hands took Alfred’s, raising it up to clasp it against the American’s chest, right above his heart. The other hand stayed around Alfred’s middle, pulling him a fraction closer. The sweater Ivan wore was soft and plush against Alfred’s back, almost like a comforting blanket. The Russian had a couple of inches on him in height, but they fit together surprisingly well. 

“It is not hard to handle until they all start getting sad,” Ivan’s lips brushed against Alfred’s ear. “And then it feels like you are suffocating in a room full of fresh air. You know you should be breathing, but you can’t.”

Alfred swallowed back a sob, trying his hardest to steady his breathing. He couldn’t let Ivan see him this weak…this vulnerable. It wasn’t like him at all. Ivan was probably having a grand time with this, watching Alfred fall apart before his very eyes. Alfred wouldn’t be surprised if Ivan had planned this all along. With that thought, Alfred began shifting and trying to pull away half-heartedly, but Ivan’s grip grew firm and Alfred found himself trapped. 

“I don’t know why your country is so unhappy, Fredka, but it will get better,” Ivan pressed his lips behind Alfred’s ear before leaning back down. “I speak from much experience.”

Alfred turned around abruptly, intent on shoving the other away from him. His hands planted themselves on Ivan’s chest, but his fingers curled into the fluffy fabric of the other’s sweater. Looking up at Ivan again, Alfred found his face to be quite sullen. His generally cruel gaze was disconcerted, as if the other were battling just as many emotions as Alfred was. The American often forgot how much older Ivan was, but at times like these it was clear through the other’s eyes. Those eyes had seen more hardships than Alfred could ever dream of facing. 

Shoving Ivan away harshly, Alfred stumbled until his back hit the window. Alfred inhaled sharply at the chill of the glass on his skin, the shock distracting him from the sudden grip Ivan had on his forearm. The American was ripped away from the window and back against the chest of the Russian, his lavender eyes peering down at him in slight annoyance. Alfred shook his head, trying to escape while his mind processed everything. 

“Stop it!” Alfred hissed. “Stop acting like you give a damn!”

“Why?” Ivan retorted dryly. “So you can pretend nothing is wrong?”

Alfred groaned, his knees bent as he tried to give himself some sort of leverage. It was futile of course, since Ivan was like a brick wall. He nearly broke sweat trying to get the other to let go, but Ivan was unrelenting. The Russian simply watched him squirm like a prisoner, irritation and concern still evident on his face. 

“Let me go, Ivan!” Alfred growled, now trying to push against the other rather than pull away. 

“Nyet,” Ivan replied. “You are acting like a child.”

“Ivan-“

_”Nyet, Alfred.”_

Alfred would never be used to hearing his name spill from the other’s lips. The way Ivan’s vowels curved and the way that he trilled made his name somewhat unrecognizable, as if the Russian had a way of making it his own. He’d heard his name spoken by other countries before, but there was just something about Ivan’s accent that made it different. He would deny it if anyone asked, but Alfred loved listening to Ivan say his name. While other countries would call out his name nonchalantly, Ivan would speak it softly as though it were the most important thing he would ever say.

Alfred paused in his struggle when he realized just how low he’d dug himself to relish in his enemy’s attention towards him. He was disgusted in himself for his sudden desire for sympathy.

“Alfred, look at me.”

Alfred shook his head, his hands clenched tightly as Ivan kept his firm grasp on his forearms. The Russian simply took a miniscule step forward, closing in the space between himself and Alfred even further. Slowly, Ivan let go of one arm and reached up to remove Alfred’s glasses, folding them and gently placing them on the desk beside the window. He let go of his other arm and reached both hands up to gently push the blond fringe away from Alfred’s eyes. Ivan’s hands were large enough to cradle the majority of Alfred’s head, and he found himself reluctantly pushing into his palms at the comforting warmth. 

“Alfred, please,” Ivan whispered with a sour expression. “You are beginning to frighten me.”

Alfred huffed out a small laugh, and looked up at the other in disbelief, “That’s rich, coming from you.”

Ivan just stared at him. Those eyes, once holding admiration for him and later holding resentment, peered into his own as if the other could read see his soul. He always hated when the older countries looked at him, sympathizing with him as if reliving past events. It made him feel like a child, and Ivan’s gaze was no different. If anything, it was worse. Ivan’s eyes were like winter. Calm, yet cruel. 

Alfred had so much to say, or to ask, but nothing would come out when he tried to form words. It seemed that Ivan could sense his discomfort, a pro of hanging around the country for so long, and so he simply stepped back and held out his hand for Alfred to take. 

The American stared down at it, wondering what sort of hell the other had cooked up for him. Ivan had never offered his hand unless he had to for business, and Alfred had always been relieved because it was very awkward. Now that Ivan had finally done so of his own accord, Alfred had no idea what to do. 

“Alfred,” his name still sounded so eerily sweet on the other’s tongue.

Alfred looked at into Ivan’s lavender eyes, shining with emotions the other could not decipher. Ivan’s hand lifted a fraction and his face lower ever so slightly, his gaze never leaving the American’s.

“Let me help you.”

In his centuries of knowing Ivan, Alfred had never heard the man utter such sincere words until that moment. Even before the wars, back when the two of them had been decent allies, Ivan had never struck him as very heartfelt kind of guy. He still didn’t, and Alfred still didn’t really trust him. However, there was an air of familiarity between them that had Alfred taking hold of the other’s hand with only a brief hesitation.

Even if Ivan was going to hurt him, he could handle it better than the emptiness and sorrow he’d felt over the last couple of days.

Ivan gently led him inside of the bathroom. He let go of Alfred’s hand to turn on the bathtub faucet, checking its temperature for a few seconds. Alfred stood still, knowing what Ivan was implying…but still a bit unsure of himself to do anything. The hot water splashed as it filled the tub, steam already rising. Alfred watched as Ivan removed his sweater, revealing muscular forearms that could rival his own. Removing his scarf as well, Alfred could see a wide range of deep scars along the other’s neck. He’d known about those for a while, after a particularly rough coupling between the two of them during the middle of the Cold War. He had never asked where they were from, and couldn’t help but be curious about it. 

Ivan quickly stripped himself of his pants and socks, tossing them into a corner haphazardly. He then walked over to Alfred, adorning nothing but his underwear, and carefully grasped the hem of Alfred’s sweater. He did not attempt to pull it off, but he did tug at it to send Alfred the message. Without a word, Alfred lifted his arms above his head and let Ivan carefully peel the sweater off. Alfred did not blush until he felt Ivan’s fingers unbuttoning his pants, and he was still a bit too distracted by his thoughts to do it himself. 

Alfred was beginning to wonder if he’d hit his head earlier in the day.

Ivan was slow and gentle while the sound of water splashed behind him, and Alfred was beginning to shiver for an entirely different reason. Not out of lust, per say, but rather at the unexpected gentleness Ivan displayed. No one had been quite so careful with him since he was a young child since he was so strong and could handle pretty much anything thrown at him. Ivan’s fingers were calloused, but not uncomfortable against his skin, and he was still so confused as to how they could be so warm if his entire country was an icy tundra. 

Alfred’s gaze fell on the Russian’s head as he crouched down to help Alfred out of his pants, and he had the sudden urge to run his fingers through the blond stresses. He wondered if it was course and wiry, or if it was dry and brittle. Maybe he had dandruff akin to all the snow that fell on his land. 

Alfred started when lavender eyes bore into his, questioning him silently. Alfred turned his gaze away as the other’s fingers trailed on the hem of his underwear lightly, unsure of how to proceed. Ivan’s consideration was unsettling. Slowly, Alfred nodded, and in a matter of seconds he felt the fabric slowly slide down his legs. 

He did not really understand why he was going along with this, but he was just so…tired. Not really in a physically exhausted sort of way, although that was definitely a thing because of jet lag, but more of a mental exhaustion. His thoughts were still running rampant through his mind, but he had long given up trying to make sense of any of them. Maybe Ivan was right. Maybe he had given up.

Alfred grimaced at the thought.

Alfred watched as Ivan stood, stripping himself of his own underwear and checking on the water. It took a few moments of awkwardly standing in the middle of the bathroom before Ivan deemed the tub full enough. Ivan took his hand and Alfred quickly found himself submerged chest deep in water. He felt Ivan shift behind him, trying to get comfortable in the cramped space. It must have looked a bit comical to have the two of them, neither small in stature, trying to fit in a simple bathtub. As it was, their knees were sticking up from the water. 

Alfred stared down at his reflection, ignoring the tired face that stared back at him. He jumped when he felt Ivan’s hands cup water over his head in a futile attempt to wet it, and Alfred would have rolled his eyes had he been in a better mood. After a few more tries, Ivan leaned forward to whisper into Alfred’s ear.

“Could you wet your hair for me, Fredka?” his voice sickeningly sweet.

Without another word, Alfred dunked his head down into the water, briefly wondering if this was a trick and Ivan would drown him. Of course, he would not die, but it would be very uncomfortable. He was pleased to find that was never Ivan’s intention, and let out a surprised noise when he felt Ivan do the same to his own hair, brushing against his lower back awkwardly. Afterwards he heard the cap of a bottle opening, and felt fingers begin massaging shampoo onto his scalp. In a matter of moments the American was groaning in appreciation. He’d always liked head massages. Ivan massaged the shampoo in for at least three minutes before urging Alfred to rinse it out while he did his own. 

He did not expect Ivan’s fingers to begin massaging his shoulders with soap, and he could not help his muscles from tensing. Countries did not do this sort of thing with each other casually, so Alfred was naturally curious as to what the Russian’s motive was. He almost preferred the condescending and murderous version of the other male than he did this one. Ivan’s fingers did not stop their circular motions, but he did lean forward again.

“Relax, moyo solnyshko,” Ivan breathed, his breath traveling over Alfred’s ears like small winter breezes. 

Alfred suppressed a shiver as Ivan’s hands meticulously worked their way down his biceps, managing to undo all of the tension hidden beneath his skin. He nearly tensed again when he felt Ivan’s lips trace the shell of his ear, but another round of gentle squeezes had him melting against the other man’s chest. 

He was right.

Ivan was much softer than he’d previously thought.

He was not fat by any means, but he was not so firm and toned as Alfred. Of course, the American was not complaining, but welcomed the change. It intrigued him, really, that they were both so similar and yet so very different, and he wondered why Ivan wasn’t as toned in appearance as he was. Maybe it was to keep him warm from General Winter.

Ivan continued his administrations for a few more minutes before gently rinsing off Alfred off with the warm water. The feeling of Ivan gently washing away the dirt from Alfred’s body was refreshing, as if he was washing away all of his troubles. Well, save for the one behind him. He sighed when Ivan pulled him down to lie against his chest once more. The Russian’s arms wrapped innocently around him, and Alfred felt comfortable despite the cramped space. It was ironic, finding solace in the arms of an enemy. 

Alfred gazed down at the hands, slightly larger than his own, resting over his abdomen securely. The other’s skin was milky and pale, giving away how little time he spent in the sun compared to Alfred. It was almost laughable. 

“You look like a snowman, ya know,” Alfred mumbled, trying to bring up his own mood.

Ivan hummed, his tenor voice vibrating against Alfred’s back. Ivan reached up one of his hands to stroke Alfred’s hair away from his face, water dripping back into the tub as he did. The slow, gentle movements had Alfred shutting his eyes and sighing with a frown etched on his face. He shouldn’t have enjoyed it as much as he did. 

“I am like cartoon,” Ivan’s grin could be heard in his voice. “Of that snowman, da?”

Alfred peeked one eye open and turned to peer at Ivan’s grinning face, “Which one?” 

Ivan opened his mouth and then shut it with a slight frown, suddenly averting his gaze towards the ceiling. Alfred watched in amusement as a familiar look of irritation passed over Ivan’s features, his lips moving silently. It was always an entertaining sight to watch Ivan try to translate whatever it was he wanted to say into English. Maybe that was the real reason he was so quiet all of the time.

“Cartoon of the snowman that…comes to life,” Ivan scrunched up his nose, huffing. “I do not remember his name.”

Alfred let his head fall back onto Ivan’s shoulder, watching as he tried to find words. It was so amusing, but he tried not to laugh because it wasn’t like he could really speak any Russian. Actually, Ivan’s English was very impressive.

“The snowman comes to life to play with the happy children,” Ivan explained, his hand leaving Alfred’s hair to gesture firmly. “And there was…magic from the hat-“

“Frosty the Snowman?”

“Da!” Ivan sighed in relief, his lips lifting in a genuine smile. “Frosty the Snowman!”

Alfred couldn’t help but smile himself, humming when Ivan’s fingers returned to his hair. The two remained that way for a few more minutes, Alfred beginning to go in and out of sleep. The warmth of the water and the man behind him was so calming, nice in comparison to his emotional turmoil. He was still confused and uneasy in Ivan’s presence, but the relaxing strokes of his fingers were lulling him into a state of calm. 

Speaking of Ivan’s fingers, they had begun to trail down over Alfred’s bicep. 

“What’re you doing?” Alfred mumbled.

“Hm?” was Ivan’s only response.

Alfred began to lift his head, only to have it shoved back down. The American sputtered, his eyes wide in aggravation, and Ivan simply returned to stroking his arm.

“It relaxes you, yes?”

“If it were anyone besides you, maybe,” Alfred huffed. “Why can’t you just punch me or something-“

“I said I would help you, so be quiet,” Ivan interrupted cheerfully.

The hand moved over Alfred’s chest, his calloused fingers a tad rough against his left nipple. Despite being a bit weird, Ivan wasn’t wrong when he said it relaxed him. The touch was just gentle enough that it was comfortable, like little breezes on a hot summer day. Alfred had a feeling he knew where this was heading, but he’d be lying if he said it wouldn’t be appreciated. He needed the distraction.

“Why are you so insistent on making me feel better?” Alfred let out a soft moan as the hand continued down his abdomen. “Don’t tell me you’re feeling sorry for me?”

The hand paused, and Alfred nearly missed the way Ivan stiffened behind him. In a split second the tension was gone, and the hand continued its administrations. Ivan seemed to be enjoying Alfred’s happy trail, letting his fingers linger there for a few moments.

“Nyet, do not mistake my intentions, sladkiy,” Ivan purred. “I am very selfish.”

Oh, Alfred didn't doubt that.

The American moaned when Ivan’s fingers brushed against his cock, rough in the water. His fingers were gentle, nonetheless, simply letting them trail over Alfred’s length without much pressure. It brought him a small tingling of pleasure without being overwhelming, which he was not used to at all. Any other sexual encounters he’d had were fast and furious, leaving both he and the other panting for breath twenty minutes after their initial kiss. It was always a wild ride, and he loved it, but he’d never actually just…relished in the pleasure. 

Alfred breathed deeply through his nose as Ivan lowered his head to press a kiss to his neck, chapped against tan skin. Ivan’s other hand came to rest against Alfred’s chest, just over his erratically beating heart. For some reason, the revelation that Ivan actually had a secondary motive calmed Alfred’s nerves. He did not like something he could not understand.

God, he was starting to sound like England.

America felt his cheeks heat up as he listened to the soft noise of Ivan kissing his neck, tilted his head to allow him more access. Ivan’s hand continued to tease Alfred, never giving his stiffening member the attention it needed. He wasn’t sure how this was supposed to relax him now that he was getting riled up and his body was tensing. His legs were pressing against the edges of the tub harshly, sure to leave a bruise, and his hands were clenched at his sides while his jaw tightened. 

Ivan clicked his tongue as he pulled away from Alfred’s neck, reaching up to grasp his jaw and turn the American towards him. Even though the hold was firm, it was still gentle.

“You need to relax, Fredka.”

Alfred stuck out his tongue in annoyance, pulling away with a frown. Ivan got up and exited the tub, grabbing a towel to dry himself with. Alfred followed suit, knowing the water would get cold soon anyway, and tried to ignore his half-erect member. He was not self-conscious, but there was something about the other’s gaze that had his legs tremble. As he wrapped the towel around his waist, he felt large hands grip his hips and turn him around. Alfred’s arms came to rest on Ivan’s chest, firm, yet soft under his touch, and he looked up with furrowed eyebrows. 

Ivan stared at him for a moment with a look in his eyes that Alfred could not decipher. He was not sure what the other man wanted, or how helping Alfred through his momentary time of need would get him anything he wanted. 

One of those questions was answered when Ivan grabbed the towel from Alfred’s hands and tossed it away. Alfred opened his mouth to say something, but was cut short when Ivan pulled him closer and kissed his cheek. He pulled away with a grin, taking Alfred’s hand and dragging him back towards the bed. 

Alfred was pulled close when they reached the edge of the mattress, Ivan’s knees hitting the back of it. Ivan reached one arm around to rest his hand on the small of Alfred’s back while the other hand reached up to rest on the side of Alfred’s neck. Alfred felt his breath hitch at the action, so unfamiliar and terrifying while feeling so wonderful. Ivan leant down, and for a brief moment Alfred was afraid to be kissed. They never kissed. Kisses were meant for lovers. His worry was for naught when the Russian’s lips fell to the crook of his neck, softly pressing and brushing against his skin. Alfred’s arms shakily snuck their way around Ivan to rest on his shoulders, reluctantly pulling him closer. 

Slowly, Ivan lowered himself to sit on the mattress, pulling Alfred to sit on his lap. Their half erect members brushed against each other, causing Alfred to shudder and grip Ivan’s shoulders more roughly. Ivan held the American securely with both hands on his back, beginning to suck at the skin underneath Alfred’s jaw. Alfred swallowed, his breathing beginning to pick up as he dug his nails into the other’s skin. Ivan pulled away, watching him with a hint of amusement.

“Alfred.”

Alfred nearly moaned as a violent shudder escaped him. His name was a weapon solely to be used against him, and it appeared that Ivan managed to figure that out. His nails dug in further, nearly breaking skin. He knew he needed to relax, but he just…couldn’t. 

“I’m sorry,” Alfred whispered, lowering head down to Ivan’s collarbone. 

Ivan tensed for a moment, before pushing Alfred over towards the head of the bed. At first, Alfred worried he’d simply been shoved away, but when he saw Ivan following his movements he knew that was not the case. Alfred shifted until he found himself lying down with his head on a pillow, Ivan hovering over him. The Russian moved down to press a kiss above Alfred’s heart, causing it the stutter, and his hands resting firmly on Alfred’s hips. Their skin was still soft from the bath, creating an interestingly comfortable sensation to pass over them. 

“Do not think,” Ivan murmured, pressing gentle kisses over Alfred’s chest. “I promise I will not harm you today.”

Alfred’s eyes widened comically, and his breathing ceased altogether.

Sure, Ivan implied he would probably still hurt him in the future, but… 

Alfred watched as the other’s lips swept over his skin, feather light and sweet. Ivan could easily try to snap his hipbones or bite into his skin, and yet he never did. The other’s damp hair, already drying, fell over his face to tickle Alfred’s skin and leave goosebumps in its wake. Ivan began to journey south, his hands holding onto Alfred’s waist as though he were made of glass. Alfred swallowed a lump in his throat as a kiss was pressed underneath his naval, beginning to flex his toes on the bedspread. Ivan’s eyes were closed, his face relaxed as he suckled and licked.

Alfred lowered his head and his back arches, tears escaping wide eyes as he felt Ivan press a kiss to his member. His finger’s grasped the bedspread beneath him, rustling the fabric as he squirmed. The feeling of being treated so gently by someone who supposedly hated him was too much for him to bear, and Alfred found himself sobbing. Ivan paused, looking up at the first whimper, and his eyes widened at the sight of tears rolling down Alfred’s cheeks. The American’s breathing was irregular as he fell lax against the bed, his abdomen shuddering with each soft cry that escaped his lips. 

All of the sadness, and all of the pain his people felt finally making itself known as tears flowed from his unblinking eyes. All of the hollow emptiness most of them felt on a day-to-day basis finally catching up with him. He felt Ivan return to kissing and licking his cock, slow and unhurried as Alfred closed his eyes and finally surrendered to his inner battle. 

He couldn’t bear it! He was the hero, and here he was lying on a bed crying his eyes out in front of his rival, all because his country’s citizens were a bit more upset than usual. There wasn’t even a specific reason for their own issues, but rather a multitude of smaller ones that added up over time. This was just a bad year for him and his people.

Alfred let out a loud whimper when Ivan sucked at the head of his member, both from stimulation and from his slowly quieting cries. Ivan glanced up at the mewling American, and pressed one last kiss before making his way back up. He hovered over Alfred, leaning down to lick away the other’s tears, pressing kisses along his jawline and chin. Alfred let out a shuddering breath when Ivan leaned down to suck beneath his jaw again, a bit harsher than before but still gentle. One hand ran along Alfred’s thigh while the other lay by his head to keep him steady. Alfred arched against Ivan when he felt the other’s teeth nibble him, causing their members to brush against one another once more. The American was a tad relieved to find that Ivan was just as hard as he was. 

“Why?” Alfred whispered, another tear escaping his eyes.

Ivan lifted Alfred’s leg to rest against his hip, giving the Russian easier access to grind their members together. Alfred let out a broken moan, his voice rough. He continued to kiss the American’s throat, no doubt leaving plenty of marks for others to see, ignoring Alfred’s question. Alfred’s hands pressed against Ivan’s chest, pushing him away weakly. Ivan complied, albeit a bit agitated, his own face blushing minutely. 

“Ivan, please,” Alfred whimpered, clearing his throat in an attempt to not sound so pathetic. “What do you want from me?”

“I have already told you,” Ivan replied lowly. 

“No,” Alfred managed, his hands shaking. “What could you possibly get out of helping me?”

Ivan looked away for a moment before crawling off of Alfred and getting off of the bed. Alfred watched as he grabbed his coat from the closet and pulled out a tiny bottle of lube before walking back and placing it on the stand beside them. Ivan returned to his previous position, placing both hands on Alfred’s thighs as he spread them apart. Alfred frowned, resisting out of embarrassment, to which Ivan replied by nipping his ankle lightly. Ivan leaned over and grabbed the lube, squeezing some onto his fingers and warming it up. 

Alfred swallowed when Ivan’s gaze caught his as he pressed his fingers against the American’s entrance, not pushing in just yet. 

Alfred did not like to admit it, but he’d only ever bottomed for Ivan in previous couplings, and it had never been willingly. None of those times had he ever been prepared, simply because Ivan _liked to watch him squirm_. 

Ivan pressed one finger in, waiting for Alfred to adjust before continuing. Alfred grit his teeth in frustration, more hot tears falling from his eyes. He gripped the bed sheets tightly, hoping nothing would tear.

“Ivan!” Alfred groaned out as another finger was added. “Answer me- fuck!”

Ivan remained silent, and Alfred wanted to yell in exasperation. By the time Ivan was scissoring him with four fingers, Alfred was ready to scream. He reached over and grabbed Ivan’s hair, yanking on it roughly only to have his hands grabbed by the Russian’s and pushed down on either side of his head. Ivan peered down at him through semi-dried hair, eyes full of lust, and Alfred swallowed. 

“You always make things difficult,” Ivan breathed, pressing their erections together.

Alfred groaned at the friction, glad for something familiar in this twisted web of uncertainty. 

“I just want to know why you are treating me like a person, and not a- Mhmm!” Alfred moaned as Ivan ground their hips together once more.

Ivan chuckled, reaching over for the lube bottle and coating his member in the slick substance, still grasping one of Alfred’s wrists firmly. He looked up into Alfred’s blue eyes once more as he gently guided his cock towards Alfred’s entrance, his own breathing a bit irregular.

“I will not fight you unless you can fight back,” Ivan stated. 

Ivan pressed forward gently, his erection slowly joining he and Alfred together. Alfred gasped, the feeling familiar and yet foreign with the surprising lack of discomfort. Alfred keened as Ivan began to move, their eyes never leaving each other. 

“T-that’s- ah! That’s bullshit!” Alfred bit out.

“I will not fight _you_ , Alfred,” Ivan whispered, heaving a breath as he pushed forward.

Alfred simply stared as his thoughts were completely consumed by Ivan. All he could feel was the other man above him. All he could see were Ivan’s eyes and the hair falling over his face, rustling a bit with every exhale. One hit to his prostate had Alfred whining and reaching out to Ivan, not sure where to hold on. Ivan leaned down to rest his forehead against Alfred’s neck as the American lifted his hands to run his fingers through the other’s hair. 

Contrary to what he’d previously believed, Ivan’s hair was not rough or brittle. It was thick and heavy like snow after a blizzard, but also soft and wispy like small snowflakes landing on your tongue. He’d always been too busy pummeling the guy’s face into the dirt to appreciate it. Alfred sighed as the hair brushed against his jaw, and he turned his face to press a kiss there. Ivan started, not expecting that gesture, and watched Alfred with a strangely timid expression. Alfred stared back, his fingers gently caressing Ivan’s hair as the other slowed his thrusting. Ivan’s grip on his wrist hesitantly moved up to his hand, and Alfred wasted no time in lacing their fingers together. 

In this moment, everything was different. Sure, they might wake up the next day and be back to the way they were before, but in this moment…Ivan was not his enemy. Alfred felt another tear fall, and Ivan leaned up to kiss it away. The movement caused Ivan’s member to shift against Alfred’s prostate, and the American moaned. Slowly, Ivan began to continue his movements, pulling away to look at the other for a moment. 

“Vanya,” Alfred whispered, cupping Ivan’s cheek.

Ivan’s breath hitched at the nickname before he let out a soft sigh.

It was a name that Alfred had given him when they had first met all those years ago, before they were enemies. Back then, Alfred had been so excited when he heard that the Russian man was going to visit him. Ivan always brought such interesting gifts with him at the time, and Alfred had always admired the other man’s raw power…even back then. 

_”Vanya! Perfect timing dude! I just got rid of eyebrows and bought this really sweet house! You should definitely come see it!”_

Of course, that was a _very_ long time ago.

Ivan blinked, his eyes filled with reminiscence, thoughts filled with memories of their early history together. Things had been so different then. Nicer even. Of course, there was no sense dwelling on past events. 

Alfred gasped as Ivan began to pound relentlessly, and watched as the other lowered his face to where Alfred could not see. Despite Ivan’s newfound vigor, Alfred felt no pain. Ivan’s hand began to squeeze Alfred’s subconsciously, his body beginning to tremble. The American frowned when he realized that Ivan was avoiding his gaze, settling for fucking his brains out instead. The change in pace was a bit overwhelming, and Alfred found himself frowning at the loss of affection.

“Ivan,” Alfred whined, trying to focus his gaze on the Russian. “What’s-mhm! What’s w-wrong?”

Ivan did not answer, but picked up his pace. He let go of Alfred’s hand, leaning back to grasp the other’s thighs instead. A loud cry escaped Alfred’s lips as his prostate was hammered fiercely. 

“Vanya-“

“Zahmolchee,” Ivan bit out harshly.

Alfred swallowed. It did not take the American long to realize that Ivan was upset and trying to speed things along. In a moment of compassion, Alfred propped himself up on his elbow, reaching out with one hand to cup Ivan’s cheek. Ivan pulled away, his hair covering his eyes as he continued to thrust, his skin flushed from the action. Pushing away from the bed and taking hold of Ivan’s shoulder, Alfred sat himself up awkwardly and reached out to cup Ivan’s face again. The thrusting did not slow, and the angle was strangely exhilarating, but Alfred tried to focus more on the man in front of him. 

“Ivan,” Alfred said gently. 

The pace slowed as Ivan silently looked anywhere besides at Alfred. The American took his other hand and gently lifted Ivan’s face to see him, frowning at the pain and regret in the other’s eyes. 

“I forget how young you are,” Ivan’s voice was nearly unintelligible. 

Alfred blinked, unsure of how to respond. On a normal day he’d come back with some witty retort, but in this moment he had no reply. Ivan’s eyes searched his silently, as if looking for something. 

“I have lived so long, surviving countless wars and making many enemies,” Ivan’s tone was distant. “I have watched many empires grow from nothing, and then laughed as they crumbled.”

Ivan’s expression became stoic, his thoughts filled with the history that he had lived through. Alfred said nothing.

“For as long as I have existed, my sole purpose has always been to conquer. To control,” Ivan’s eyes darkened. “And I have succeeded many times.”

Alfred shuddered at the other’s expression, his hand leaving the other’s cheek. Ivan took hold of Alfred’s hips, slowly lifting the American in time with his thrusting. Alfred moaned, wrapping his arm around Ivan’s neck, pulling the two of them close enough that Alfred’s hard length was trapped between their navels. 

“I have endured famines and multiple civil wars, and yet always managed to bring my country that much closer to power. Half of the countries you view as your friends were the ones who made sure my people starved while I was helpless to do anything,” Ivan huffed. “Now, they are all afraid to speak my name, and I’m glad. I will never forgive them for the misery they caused me.”

Alfred swallowed, trying to focus on Ivan’s words while being screwed to the point of incoherency. His fingers reached up to tug at Ivan’s hair once more, grasping at the soft tufts with a pleased mewl.

“But you are different.”

Alfred’s eyes shot open, turning to look at Ivan again. 

“You have never feared me,” Ivan murmured, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from Alfred’s eyes. “So I tried to make you.”

“It didn’t work,” Alfred managed, eyes rolling back for a moment as his prostate was hit. 

“Nyet,” Ivan chuckled darkly. “But it did make you my enemy.”

Alfred stared into Ivan’s lavender orbs, consumed by the other’s words. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Ivan almost looked sad. Alfred knew what Ivan was thinking without the other having to voice it, and he wondered the same thing. Had things gone in a slightly different direction the two of them may have never had such a strained relationship with each other, and could have even been powerful allies. They could have aided each other in battle, possibly preventing certain wars from ever escalating as far as they did. 

A vision of Alfred and Ivan standing side by side in their military uniforms filled the American’s mind. They could have been a symbol of peace in times of struggle. 

They could have been superheroes.

Alfred’s heart skipped a beat at the thought.

Without another word, Alfred leaned forward and smashed his lips against Ivan’s. The Russian jolted, surprised by the action, but quickly gave in and kissed Alfred with a vigor neither knew he had. Ivan tasted like vodka against Alfred’s tongue, which he found unsurprising. Soft, wet noises filled the air as their breathing deepened. Ivan leaned forward, lowering Alfred back down against the bed as he picked up the pace once again. Alfred jerked and gasped as the angle hit him in just the right spot, Ivan taking advantage of this as he teasingly licked the inside of Alfred’s upper lip. Alfred’s fingers yanked and tugged at Ivan’s hair, mewling against his lips as they continued to kiss.

Alfred turned his head sharply to the side to stifle a groan as Ivan pounded into him. Heat began to coil in his belly and travel down to his toes, and Alfred knew he would not last much longer. He had not even touched himself. Ivan sounded like he was in a similar position as he leaned down to nip at Alfred’s neck.

“Hn- our countries are rivals,” Alfred gasped out, nearly hyperventilating as his body trembled. “But you and I don’t have to-ah! We don’t-mhm- have to be.”

Ivan inhaled deeply, turning Alfred’s face to kiss his lips again, “You should not speak words that you do not mean.”

Alfred keened, "You callin' me a liar-? _Oh shit!”_

Ivan kissed his jawline, his own breath harsh against the American’s tanned skin. Alfred threw his arms around Ivan’s neck, pulling him closer until it nearly hurt. Ivan sucked the skin of his neck, his cock throbbing inside of Alfred as he moved. Their pace was quick, but no longer desperate or angry. It was a new experience for both of them, and neither could complain. 

“I-Ivan!” Alfred inhaled sharply. 

Ivan sucked Alfred’s earlobe into his mouth, nibbling on it gently for a few moments. Reached around and taking one of Alfred’s hands, he laced their fingers together once more and held it between their chests. Alfred’s eyes moistened with tears when he felt the combined beating of their hearts against their clasped hands. In this moment, the two of them were no longer representatives of countries.

In this moment, they were simply men.

“Come for me, myshka,” Russia breathed, his voice strained. 

The heat in Alfred’s belly erupted into a fiery flame, his toes tingling as a familiar feeling rose into his chest. His breathing quickened until he was gasping for air. His body was torn between tensing up and relaxing, and he found himself squeezing Ivan’s hand as if it were a lifeline. Ivan pulled away to gaze down at Alfred with a look shockingly similar to affection, clouded by a dark wave a lust. The sight of Ivan’s pupils dilating as they fixed onto Alfred’s own was his undoing, and he threw his head back as his orgasm hit him like a tsunami; his mouth open in a silent scream. Alfred’s back arched in the final seconds when he felt Ivan follow suit, spilling his warm seed inside of him. 

Ivan collapsed on top of Alfred, his mouth against the American’s neck as they tried to catch their breath. Their hands were still clasping between their chests, and Alfred felt Ivan give his hand a gentle squeeze. He silently turned his head a bit to see Ivan lift his own and give him a questioning glance. 

_Are you okay?_

The feeling of emptiness and sorrow still lingered in the back of Alfred’s mind. His people were not simply going to recover because he’d had the best sex of his life. However, it was not as overbearing as before, and he felt his lips turn up in a tiny smile. He lifted his free hand to run it through Ivan’s hair once again, enjoying its pleasant texture as the Russian closed his eyes in appreciation. 

The two remained that way for a few more minutes before Ivan gently withdrew himself from Alfred, causing the other to grumble in discomfort. He grabbed a rag, wiping himself and Alfred down before crawling into the bed. Ivan lifted the blankets to pull over the both of them. Alfred watched curiously, wondering what Ivan was thinking. He was a bit surprised that the other wanted to stay.

Ivan gently wrapped his arm around Alfred’s waist and pulled him into an embrace, pressing a soft kiss to the other’s forehead. Alfred stared down at Ivan’s chest, watching as the other’s heart beat evenly. It seemed to be so close to the skin that Alfred was worried it would fall out again. He carefully pressed his hand against it, easing the organ further back into the man. Ivan swallowed silently, his eyes wide.

“Why does it do that?” Alfred asked softly, yawning in exhaustion.

“I don’t know,” Ivan replied.

Alfred glanced up when Ivan covered the hand on his chest.

“But it has never gone back in like that before,” Ivan whispered. “It was always trying to escape.”

Alfred’s eyes widened, looking back down at his hand in curiosity. The American smiled, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he caressed the other’s chest.

“Your heart wants freedom,” Alfred snickered. “Who is more free than I am?”

Ivan’s eyes widened comically before his lip curled into mock disgust, peering down at Alfred with a playful glare. Alfred just closed his eyes with a smile, pressing himself closer to the other. Ivan’s hand caressed Alfred’s back, lulling him into a deep slumber.

Come morning, the two of them would be rivals. They would go back to biting out dry insults, glaring at one another during long meetings, and sending death threats with nuclear warfare. They would try to beat each other in new space technology, still unsatisfied with the Space Race. They would still find themselves making out in closets, biting and scratching one another in an attempt to prove themselves. They would still wait for an excuse to punch the other in the face without it being a declaration of war. 

However, they would also find themselves calling the other in times of distress and need. They would notice if the other was upset during meetings, and would attempt to console them privately. Ivan was always watching Alfred’s actions, ready to help or destroy, and Alfred allowed it to happen. 

They were not friends, but they were also not enemies. Perhaps they never were.

Any action America took, and any sort of discovery he would make, he could be certain that Russia would know about it. Ivan would follow him down halls in meetings, not because Alfred was leading the way but rather so he could watch the other’s first move. Alfred could name no other country that could simultaneously hate and understand him as well as Russia, and the feeling was mutual. They eventually reached a silent agreement, unknown to the rest of the world. 

No matter what action America took, whether it be beneficial or detrimental to the rest of the world, Alfred could always be sure that Russia would be one step behind him.


End file.
